The Way We Were
by detente
Summary: Wheeler returns to New York where his past catches up with him.
1. Chapter 1

I was cleaning up my laptop and discovered I'd started a couple of stories and forgotten about them so I decided to rectify the situation immediately! Comments and reviews appreciated as always.

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Wheeler looked up, a gentle knock on his cabin door interrupting his idle flicking through a magazine.

"Can I come in?"

"You know you're always welcome in my bedroom, babe," he called out. Entering the room, Linka shot him a trademark look of mild irritation.

"Wheeler-"

"Yeah, I know, I know…sorry." He grinned behind the magazine.

"I need to ask you a favour," she said, shutting the door behind her. Wheeler noticed the smattering of colour across her cheeks.

"Anything, babe," he replied, brushing clothes off his bed to make room. She sat down and picked at a loose thread on his blanket for several moments. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were sad.

"Are you okay?" Wheeler reached out and she flinched as static sparked briefly when his fingers brushed against her arm. "Woah! If you wanted me to back off, all you had to do was say; no need to try and electrocute me!"

Linka smiled slightly but it did not quite reach her eyes.

"I was speaking to Mishka…," she began.

"Is he ok?" Wheeler frowned. Linka had almost fallen apart when her grandmother had died. If anything were to happen to her brother…He forced the thought out of his mind.

"Yes, yes, he is fine," Linka reassured him quickly.

"What is it, then?" She didn't reply and he wondered what request she had that was making her so tentative. Surely she knew by now that whatever it was he couldn't say no to her.

"Well, this is a really difficult time back home. Work is very hard to get. But, Mishka has finally found something. But it is in Siberia; he will be working there all summer…"

"And you can't stay with him?"

Linka shook her head. Wheeler felt bad for her but another part of him was suddenly excited. He knew what she wanted.

"That kinda sucks. The one time we're given any time off and you can't even go home?" He was trying hard to force back a grin.

"Well, Gi has said I can stay with her. But she hasn't seen her family in a long time either so I can't impose on her for a whole month. And Kwame, his father is not too well so I did not want to ask…and Ma-Ti's sister has just had the baby…" Linka's voice was hesitant, and she would not meet Wheeler's eyes.

The joy drained from Wheeler as suddenly as it had come, quickly replaced by frustration.

"So, basically, I'm your last choice?" he snapped, unable to hide the anger in his tone. They spent more time together than any of the other Planeteers and yet he was her last resort. She must have some idea how much the thought hurt him. "I guess I should be grateful that staying with me is better than being here on your own, huh? Or did Gaia tell you no, too?"

"No, Wheeler, please do not think like that. I wanted to come to you first, but I just thought it would be…" She looked up at him, eyes begging him to understand what she did not want to say.

"It would be what?" The pleading expression on her face had softened his mood.

"I thought it might be… strange…" she said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because…well…" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"You didn't think it would be strange staying at anyone else's…" He was pushing her, probing to see if she would finally open.

"I know. But with you…it's…different…" Linka's cheeks were burning a bright pink now.

Wheeler looked at her intently for a few seconds and then sighed. He had to drop the subject because he knew that they could sit there for a million years and she would not acknowledge anything more than friendship between them. It didn't matter that she always took the seat on the Geocruiser closest to him, that she always reached for his hand and no one else's when she was afraid, that she sometimes let her hand linger in his after the danger had passed…All the signs were there, but she stubbornly ignored them. Up till now Wheeler's patience had held, but it was getting harder and harder to keep giving her so much while getting so little in return.

"Linka, if you want to come to Brooklyn, you're more than welcome. But, I'm warning you, it's no Hope Island. My place is actually a bit of a dump!" He said it light-heartedly but his insides tightened when he imagined her arriving in front of the dank alleyway his parents' apartment overlooked.

"Wheeler, I come from a coalmining village," Linka smiled, gratitude etched over her face. "I am sure I will manage. In fact, I am sure I will love it. I have always wanted to see where you came from."

He said nothing and she smiled at him for a few seconds then, impulsively, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It was brief but her touch lingered on his skin.

"Thank you Wheeler."

She stood up and walked to the door, then turned, her hand on the knob.

"Please don't go to any trouble planning anything for me," she said, with a firm tone in her voice that he recognised all too well.

Wheeler read between the lines. _No funny business._ His heart sank slightly. Then she smiled at him again.

"I know whatever we do we will have a good time," she said and…was that a wink as she sailed through the doorway? Wheeler could not be sure but his spirits rose as he watched her cross the yard to her own cabin through his window.

In any case, he rationalised, there was no point hoping, agonising, planning or even thinking about what would happen in New York. With Linka, things never went according to plan. Whatever was meant to happen would happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Wheeler looked around with intense displeasure at the shabby apartment. He had spent his first few days home trying to spruce the place up to no avail. He was just going to have to accept that Linka would see it like this. One part of him knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, yet the more insistent part dreaded the moment of her arrival. He had tried so hard to rise to her expectations but how could he possibly when she would smell the permanent stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes, entrenched as it was in every item of furniture. _Thanks Dad, _he thought bitterly. His mother, too, had, some time ago, given up pretending to care about the state of her apartment. Wheeler had swept, scrubbed, sprayed, and dusted and still everything looked so worn; it was a depressing-looking place, not somewhere anyone would wish to call home. No wonder his parents only trudged in late at night. He had hardly seen them since his return but that was fine with him. He would gladly have gone to stay with his friends if he didn't feel so guilty every time he looked into his mother's defeated eyes.

The thought of his friends improved his sour mood slightly. He had been relieved to find that it was as if he had never left. They had all fallen right back into the groove. Well… apart from Trish… He hadn't seen her yet, and, as with Linka, he dreaded the moment of their meeting but for completely different reasons. Trish knew all about his past; she had been there through most of it. No, the problem was that he had not left this past behind when he joined the Planeteers. Of course, all his new friends knew about Trish- it would have been impossible not to mention someone who had been such a large part of his life for so long. What nobody knew was that they had never ended their relationship. They had just accepted that they would be apart for a long time and had gradually fallen out of touch because it was easier than admitting that something so important to both of them might finally have to come to an end.

Wheeler had assumed that the lack of contact meant they were definitely no longer together, but he now wondered if she thought differently and cursed himself for not having clarified the situation with her before leaving. He had known for a long time that the relationship was going nowhere, but they were so comfortable together, sharing all the same friends, hanging out at all the same places, that he had felt there was no way out of the relationship, no where to go without her.

And then everything had changed when he found the ring… And then he met Linka, and the instant his eyes locked on hers for the first time…well, then he knew it was truly over between him and Trish. And yet he hadn't been able to bring himself to call her and explain everything frankly. True, Trish had played her part: she, too, eventually stopped calling. But he had been the one who had left her behind, the one who had known the relationship had no future but hadn't told her. He had been weak, dishonest, spineless, and he hated himself for it.

Now that he was back in Brooklyn, it was certainly going to be harder than ever to do what needed to be done. Everything reminded him of her. Every place he went had been a place they had shared. He had had to scour his room, peeling pictures of her from his wall, gathering her clothes and retrieving her CDs from various nooks and crannies and stacking them all in the front hallway to be returned when the time came, cramming every small trinket she had ever given him into a box at the bottom of his closet. He knew he was being ridiculous: she was a good friend of his, had been his best friend. There was no need to wipe her out of his life. But he couldn't help himself. Looking at anything that she had touched made him feel confused and uncertain about a decision he had made so long ago.

Even ignoring the Linka factor, he knew that he no longer wanted to be with her, that he had not wanted it for a long time. Or at least he had thought he didn't. But now the quick way in which he had settled back into his old life made him think twice. A life that Trish fit into perfectly…

He shook his head. He had not been unhappy, as such, with his previous life: he loved New York, his friends, Trish, his mother, and, on the rare occasion that he stayed sober long enough, he sometimes enjoyed his father's company… but he had always, _always_, yearned for something more. And he had found it with the Planeteers. He could not and did not want to settle here. He would never be back for good.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, you'll never guess who I ran into yesterday," Charlie said, placing his cards down. Wheeler looked up from his own hand.

"Mr. Vatelli?"

His friends, sitting round the large table in Charlie's basement where they were playing poker, laughed loudly.

"God, no!" Fred choked on his beer. "That man hasn't been seen in public since the rumours about Mrs. Cole."

"Shame, 'cos he was a decent teacher," Sam added. "But, gosh, Mrs. Cole was, like, three times his age. Her kids were older than him! Gross." She wrinkled her button nose, and they all laughed again.

"Ok, then, who?" Wheeler asked, once the laughter had subsided.

Charlie looked at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"A certain Patricia Lynne Thomas. I think you two are acquainted…"

The room immediately fell so silent that Wheeler felt sure they could all hear his heart suddenly beating feverishly.

"And guess what?" Charlie continued, seemingly oblivious to his sudden discomfort. "She did _not_ know that you were already back in town. I quote, 'When I see that James Wheeler, I swear I'm going to kill him with my own bare hands'."

Wheeler could perfectly imagine the words coming out of his ex-girlfriend's mouth in that slow, even tone she used when she was furious.

"I-I thought one of you guys would've told her…" he muttered, looking down as the colour rose up his face.

"You've always been a terrible liar, Wheeler," Sam smiled. "So, you've been back four whole days and you haven't called her?"

"I didn't know if her number had changed…" he hedged, hating himself.

"So you didn't bother trying?" Fred said, eyebrows raised slightly.

"I…uh…I'm gonna call her soon," Wheeler said. "No, really I will," he added, seeing the looks of scepticism on their faces. "Can we get back to the game, now?"

They played for a few minutes till he noticed that they were all looking at him surreptitiously. He sighed and looked expectantly at Sam, who looked like she was ready to burst. She took his gaze as a sign to proceed.

"So what's going on between you two?" she said, trying to sound casual, but with an intensity in her gaze that made him flush again.

"Uh…between who?" he feigned ignorance, trying to buy himself some time. Sam reached out and felt his cheek.

"You're burning," she grinned mischievously. "I told you: you're not a good liar. It's written all over your face."

Wheeler knew it and he hated how easily his emotions were betrayed. Linka always said he wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn't know whether she meant it affectionately or not since she prided herself on being the opposite. The thought of the Russian made him flush even more deeply.

"The thing is…" he began, unsure of how to explain himself. "Ok, look, we never really broke up. We just decided to, uh, let things be. But it's been so long now. I really don't think she…that she could still think of me that way."

"Are you trying to convince us or yourself?" Fred asked.

Wheeler glanced at him, annoyed at his perceptiveness. The longer he stayed in New York and the more he thought about Trish and all they had shared, the less sure he became of what he wanted. His friends were simply adding to this confusion.

"Guys, come on," he said, frowning. "It's been, what? A year and a half since I left? There's no way-"

"One year, seven months, 2 weeks and 3 days, to be precise" Charlie interrupted.

"Wow, I didn't know you felt that way about me, man," Wheeler joked weakly.

"Actually that's what _Trish _told me yesterday," Charlie grinned. "She's been keeping count. So, yeah, I'd say she still thinks about you that way…"

Wheeler's heart sank. This was going to be harder than he had ever imagined. She still loved him as much as ever, which meant, if he knew her, that she would not let him go easily. And she was a very persuasive girl and she definitely would not let him off the hook without a fight.

"So, if you never broke up with her…" Sam began. Wheeler looked at her, silently begging her not to finish the question, but she continued. "Does that mean you still have feelings for her?"

Wheeler was silent. It wasn't that nothing came to him, but rather that _everything _came to him at once. His mind was a swirl of confused and tangled thoughts and emotions.

"I…I…of course I have feelings for her…" he said finally, uncertainly. "We were together for 3 years. So, sure, I still care about her…". He had tried to choose his words carefully.

"Lame!" Sam rolled her eye. "Come on, you know exactly what I mean."

"Look, the truth is…" he sighed. "I didn't I did, but I'm not so sure, now. And there's this other girl-"

"Linka?" Fred interrupted, giving him a sly look. "I've seen your pictures. I can't blame you. She's smoking hot! Ow!"

Sam had kicked him under the table.

"Yeah…Linka…" Wheeler said. "Anyway, it's confusing right now, ok?"

"Wheeler, you've been going after this girl for a long time," Sam said softly. Wheeler had told her about the Russian's stubbornness. "And she's still won't…I mean, maybe it's time for you to just accept that it's not meant to-"

"No!" Wheeler said sharply. He looked round at the bemused expressions of his friends. "I mean…it's really complicated."

But the truth was that it needn't be. It should have been simple. He was in love with Linka and either she loved him back or she didn't. She was the one who insisted on muddying the waters –flirting with him one day and then ignoring him the next. What made Sam's words sting more was that he himself had agonised many times over the very possibility she had just raised. But the idea that, after all this time and effort, Linka and he were never going to happen was too painful and he had banished it from his mind whenever it surfaced.

"Come on, this is Wheeler we're talking about," Fred said, breaking the awkward silence. "He _always_ get the girl. Even when he's not trying! I think we all remember Maria…"

"And Jennifer…" Charlie threw in.

"And who could forget Erica?" Sam chuckled along with the other boys but Wheeler did not join in. "I think I can legitimately lay claim to be the only girl in the borough to be safe!" she added.

"And only 'cos you're practically a guy!" Fred guffawed. She punched him in the arm hard and they laughed again.

"Look, guys, do me a favour and let's keep this conversation in this room," Wheeler said, when they had quietened down again.

"Whatever you say, bud," Charlie said, turning back to his cards. Fred nodded.

"Sam?" Wheeler looked at her pleadingly.

"Wheeler…" She hesitated and bit her lip. "You know what she's like. She'll corner me and interrogate me about you. And you know she won't let it go. What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know," Wheeler replied. "But you'll think of something. Please, you have to let me explain to her for myself."

Sam sighed.

"Ok, Wheeler. But it's a nice mess you've gotten yourself into."

"Tell me about it!" he half-laughed, half-sighed.

He looked distractedly round the dingy basement. There were many happy memories in the room, many of them involving Trish. She fit into so much of this life that he wondered how he could ever have believed that breaking with his past would be so simple. And now Linka was coming to further complicate the boundaries between his past and present. He looked at the stack of cheap beer in the corner, at the haze of smoke above the table, at the self-rolled cigarette dangling from Fred's mouth, at the pile of grubby bottle lids they were using as chips, and knew that she could not fit in. She was from a different world entirely and would be an outsider in this environment. And Trish… Trish fit right in, like a piece of a familiar puzzle.


	4. Chapter 4

Oops…I forgot the disclaimer before: I'm not making any profit from this and the characters in the story do not belong to me. If they did I would long since have satisfied everyone's craving and gotten W/L together in each and every episode. Looking back I think they were really just torturing us for the fun of it. I mean, 6 seasons and nothing really ever happens!

Anyway, if you're following please don't hold back your comments (even negative...). We (at least I) really do appreciate responses to work. It's true, our (my) egos are that fragile ;-).

By the way, I've got two other stories in the works (and to think I'm supposed to be working on a dissertation...) but hopefully I'll be updating this one at a good pace, seeing as it's more or less written out. Happy reading.

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"Ok, babe, this is where you'll be staying. My room."

Wheeler had reached the door at the end of the narrow hallway and he set down a heavy suitcase to open it.

Linka was finally here and of course seeing her had plunged him into even deeper turmoil, as he had known it would. He tried not to let it show as she had thrown herself, with surprising vigour, into his arms in the arrivals lounge and held on to him for a long time. He was happy to see her: he couldn't feel otherwise looking down into her beautiful, beaming face. But it had been bad enough thinking about them when they were apart, but having Trish and Linka, together, in the same place...it made it almost impossible to think of one without the other intruding on his meditations. A heavy sense of apprehension had hung over him from the moment he saw Linka's arrival announced on the blue screen in the airport and it had yet to lift.

Linka stepped behind him into the cramped confines of his childhood sanctuary, shaking her head.

"Oh no, Wheeler. I cannot take your room; you should stay-" she began.

"Who said I was going anywhere?" Wheeler grinned broadly at her. "Look, there's plenty of room on the bed…" He dropped onto the narrow cot and stretched out his limbs for effect.

"You are impossible, Yankee," Linka laughed, slipping her backpack off her shoulder and sitting on the bed next to him. "Did you clean up just for me?" She was looking around at the hastily-arranged paraphernalia in his room, the books kicked under the bed, the clothes shoved into an overflowing closet…

"How could you tell?" He sat up and reclined against the headboard, arms rested behind his head.

"I have seen what your room on Hope Island normally looks like," she reminded him, poking him in the chest playfully. "Anyway," she smiled. "I appreciate the effort."

"It was the least I could do, seeing as you have to stay in this hole," he muttered darkly.

"Oh, Wheeler," Linka sighed and, unexpectedly, lay alongside him, slipping an arm across his torso. "How many times do I have to tell you? I do not mind that it is not Hope Island. I just like…being with you."

They lay in silence for a few moments, her chest rising and falling rhythmically against his. She fit comfortably against him and he was reminded suddenly, powerfully, of just how deeply, irreversibly, in love with her he was.

"You know, I really got along with Gi's sister," Linka's voice broke into his thoughts, a soft, low hum against his chest. "Ai writes a relationship column for a big newspaper. Apparently, she is quite the boy expert…"

"Yeah? So, what you're really saying is that you spent 2 weeks talking about me, huh, babe?" Wheeler teased, not quite sure where the discussion was going, and forcing himself to keep his imagination in check.

"_Da_, actually…" Linka began. "She had a lot of…um…advice."

"Advice?" Wheeler looked down at her, but could only see the crown of her head, thick blond hair pulled back in the usual ponytail.

"She told me…she said...I had to be more... forward," Linka's voice was hesitant, tentatively reaching for something she was thoroughly unfamiliar with.

"I'm not sure I follow, Linka," Wheeler frowned. If it were any other girl he would have a fairly good idea what was happening. But with the enigmatic Russian, he could never be quite sure…

"I mean like…like this," she whispered.

With impressive speed, her face was suddenly level with his, her lips on his, exploring hungrily. For a few moments he allowed himself to respond, the tension of the last few days pouring out as he kissed her back just as intensely. And then, for the first time ever, caution took over and he pulled away from her.

"Woah! Woah! Linka, hold on!" he cried, his heart beating wildly.

Looking at her pink full lips and flushed cheeks, one half of him urged him to forget about what he intended to say. Linka was lying in his bed, kissing him! And she had started it! What on earth was he doing trying to talk?! But the other half just had to know; he wasn't going to get his hopes up again for nothing. He was already confused about his feelings towards one girl; two was just too much.

"What's going on?"

"I-I..," Linka looked up at him, green eyes wide. "I thought you wanted…"

"Heck yeah, I want!" Wheeler exclaimed. "But I need an explanation. I mean, what's all this about? Is this gonna happen now and then tomorrow you'll act like nothing happened, like you usually do?" The words had come out harsher than he had intended and Linka backed slightly away from him, a pained expression crossing her face. "Do you know how hard it is to love someone when you're not sure they love you back?" he said, more softly.

"Wheeler…"

"I'm sorry. I just can't take any more of this, ok? I'm not some anonymous guy in Ai's Agony Aunt column. I have feelings, and you know all about them. So I think it's only fair that I know about yours. Is this gonna be another one of your games? Is it a big fat Russian joke?"

Linka's eyes dropped from his face and she remained silent. Wheeler's heart sank. He had known it: she wasn't serious, of course. Just toying with him again. He sighed, trying to fight back the hurt, and closed his eyes.

A soft, warm pressure on his palm caused his eyes to flicker open. Linka was pulling his hand toward her. She laid it under the thin material of her blouse, right over her heart.

"Does this feel like a joke to you?" she asked softly, bringing up wide, expressive eyes to meet his own.

Wheeler said nothing, feeling only the excited and furious pounding beneath his hand.

"I had a lot of time to reflect, Wheeler. I thought about you…the whole time…and, of course, there are still some confusing things...you know this is hard for me. But there are also things that became clear to me. I do not have the words to say it, but I think I can show you…"


	5. Chapter 5

This short chapter is mildly suggestive so if you're offended by that sort of thing, skip it. (As if anybody ever does ;-))

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A dream. It could only have been a dream.

Wheeler rolled over.

No, it was real. There was Linka lying still beside him, hair falling in a golden cloud around her shoulders. She looked positively angelic, long, delicate eyelashes framing peacefully resting eyes, full, pink lips curved slightly upwards in contentment.

_So close_... they had been so close. But it just hadn't felt right. …Wheeler sighed. It seemed slightly crazy now to him that it was he who had stopped everything. But he knew he was a dreamer and a helpless romantic. With Linka, everything had to be perfect …he didn't want any traces of the feelings of doubt that had plagued his mind over the years he had known her, the uncertainty over where they would stand the next day. He had to be absolutely sure when the time came, and despite what she had said, her erratic behaviour towards him during their years together meant that, as much as he wanted to believe that this time was the real deal, he could not quite yet bring himself to accept her words as truly genuine.

Anyway, he certainly didn't want anything as special as this to happen in the confines of the decrepit relics of a past he'd tried so hard to leave behind. Linka definitely deserved better.

And then, again, there was the issue of Trish, constantly nagging at his mind, as it had for the last weeks. It didn't seem fair to either one of the girls for him to not clarify his position regarding the woman he had long thought of as his ex-girlfriend and was now not quite so sure.

And so, mustering up more willpower than he had ever imagined he could have, suppressing every raging hormone in his body, he had pushed Linka away from him.

"What's wrong?" She had looked surprised and he could not blame her. What he was doing went against everything she knew about him. "I thought this was what you wanted, Wheeler."

"Yeah, but...not like this," he had murmured.

"What do you mean?" She had laid a hand against his bare chest and his skin had burned under her touch. Shuddering, he had closed his eyes and forced his mind to take control.

"It can't be like this," he had said in a low voice. "It doesn't feel right. This place... It's-it's not good enough for you, ok?" And he had looked away from her, unable to meet the probing gaze of those dazzling emerald eyes. He did not think he could explain to her why it mattered so much, could not explain why he felt that she and he, when together, belonged far, far away from this place.

"Oh, Yankee, what are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous," she had said firmly. She had begun to kiss him again and for a moment, overwhelmed by his desire, he had let her. And then, again, he had felt the intense pressure, the voice telling him that it wasn't right.

"No, Linka. I'm sorry. Not now. Not here…." he had said, eventually pushing her gently away. He had gathered her clothes and handed them to her and she had ignored him, eyes following his face intently. Finally, she had spoken, her voice breaking through the thick veil of emotions between them.

"You don't have to be ashamed of who you are or where you're from, Wheeler," she had said gently. The intensity with which she had looked at him, the tenderness with which her hands had caressed his face, had made it difficult for him to breathe, let alone speak.

"You don't understand what it's like," he had whispered, his voice cracked.

"You're right, I don't," she had conceded. "I have no idea what your life was like before you met me. But I want to know. I want to try...to understand you better."

She had reached up and drawn him against her, the touch of her bare skin against his own warm and reassuring. Her heart beating steadily against his, again he had had to fight back his passion, forcefully reminding himself of the promise he had made to resolve things with Trish.

Now, reflecting on the past hour, he knew that he had done the right thing. But, looking down at Linka's seductive figure lying so close to his, the knowledge did not raise his spirits. He lay back, careful not to touch her, feeling his determination melting with every moment that she lay next to him, each silent breath reminding him that she had laid herself bare to him, had opened herself to him in ways he had only dreamt of. The irony of the fact that when this –what he had ached for for so long– finally happened, he had ended up fighting himself to keep away from her was not lost on him. It was as though their relationship had been turned upside down, their usual roles reversed.

His mind churning, Wheeler fell into a fitful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" The crowd bayed aggressively. The unfortunate-looking burly youth in the centre swayed unsteadily on his feet. Then, seeming to gather all his strength, he lifted the tubing to his mouth again and sucked hard. The crowd around him cheered loudly.

"Wheeler, what on earth is happening?" Linka tugged at the redhead's arm.

"What?" He shouted down at her. It was difficult to hear with the heavy rock music pounding their ears, shaking the walls. A girl staggered past, steadying herself on an amused Wheeler before stumbling off again.

"I said, what-" She flinched as something crashed to the ground behind her. "What is going on?" she cried. She gestured towards the heavy-set boy who was now weaving through the crowd, still gripping the tube.

"Oh," Wheeler laughed. "Just a stupid drinking game."

"And would you be engaging in the 'stupid' game if I was not here?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"I… er… of course not," Wheeler said quickly, but it was too late. She was smiling knowingly at him.

"Sure," Linka said. "I'm going to be the bathroom. I'll meet you outside; the noise is killing my ears."

In seconds she was lost in the dark mass of people that were his old friends. He hadn't really wanted to come here with her, but it seemed she was tired of being holed up with just him for company. They had trawled the usual tourist sites, done a few hours of shopping, and then there was a whole lot of tv-watching in his living room. Not that they weren't comfortable in each other's company –though some unspoken emotions hung in the air above them, remnants of the events from her first night there – but he could tell she was itching for more.

Finally, one night, she had turned to him.

"How long are you going to keep hiding me from your friends?" she had said, her tone seeming casual.

"I'm not hiding you!" he had protested. "You met them-"

"For about five minutes before you dragged me off," she had countered.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to give Fred time to pull any of his moves!" Wheeler had joked lamely.

"Pull moves?" Linka had frowned. "Meaning?"

"Never mind. Ok, I'll find someplace for us to go since my company is obviously so horrifying to you!"

She had shoved him lightly.

"I knew you would say that," she had claimed.

"Oh yeah?" He had shoved her back, grinning.

"_Da. _I can read you like a book. A comic book…" She had giggled as he had play-tackled her down. Within seconds he had had her pinned down, lying on top of her, and suddenly the comedy had faded from the moment. Looking down into her eyes, he had felt the itching tension again, that sense of giddy abandon insistently prodding at him, urging him to let go of all his inhibitions. But he could not allow himself to. Not yet. It had taken all his strength to pull away from her and sit up on the couch again.

"Boy, it's really hard being you," he had muttered under his breath.

"What?" Linka had pulled herself up too, her face flushed.

"Er, nothing. So what kind of thing do you want to do, then?"

"Take me to one of your…your 'block parties'."

Wheeler had not been able to resist laughing.

"You wanna go to a party?"

"You don't have to look so surprised," she had huffed. "I am capable of having fun…"

"Ok, but these things aren't quite what you're used to…" Wheeler had warned, grinning slightly.

"Yankee, I will have you know that on Friday nights when all the men had finished at the mines the village got very merry. Very merry indeed!" she had laughingly protested.

So here they were at the 'little get together' Charlie had told him about, a few blocks away from his place. As soon as they had arrived, he had wanted to turn straight back. His apprehension rose as they stepped round a sleeping individual, clearly already heavily inebriated, and Linka's eyebrows lifted slightly as another drunken boy dragged a girl, shrieking and giggling, round the side of the house. But the night wore on pleasantly enough, and so far he had managed to steer clear of-

"Wheeler!" The familiar brogue broke into his thoughts, seeming to mock him for daring to think he could evade it.

"Trish! Hey, um-" He searched quickly for the right words as she wove her way towards him, her petite figure surprisingly powerful as she pushed past their intoxicated friends.

"Come help me get some more beer from the store," she ordered, as soon as she was beside him, tugging on his arm.

As they made their way to a small, dark room off the main area, Wheeler thought maybe he had dodged a bullet. She didn't seem angry. It was the first time he'd allowed them to be alone together. Despite his promise to clear the air, he had continued to delay the moment.

Not that Trish hadn't tried to corner him…she had tracked him down before he had raised the nerve to call her and their reunion had been bittersweet. She had cried –tears of what, he didn't dare to ask –before punching every inch of his torso and yelling at him for not telling her he was in town the moment he had landed in New York. He had spent a couple of days grovelling till she had reminded him that they needed to talk alone.

Then the excuses had started. He had 'lost' his phone –which was sort of true: he did not know where it was, but he was fairly sure it was lying somewhere in his apartment, battery exhausted. He just did not have the motivation to search for it. Then there were errands to run for his parents, numerous relatives in New Jersey he had to see and so on. And so it had continued, them playing a cat and mouse game, all the while him knowing that she would inevitably catch him and that when she did there would be hell to pay...

And then Linka had flown in, giving him even more to worry about. It was impossible to let Linka meet his new friends without also meeting Trish. And so, with no small amount of trepidation, he had introduced them. To his great relief they seemed to get along just fine, though he had to remind himself that neither quite knew what his relationship with the other was…Then, as he wrestled with himself each night, he realised that the fact they seemed friendly was somehow making the situation harder. If they had hated each other instantly, it would have made the distinction between his past and new lives that much easier to discern. It was all so complicated now, the boundaries he had drawn when he had left, dissolving and twisting, trapping the two girls unknowingly within them.

He followed Trish into the room, flicking on the light switch. They headed to the corner and began to pull beers from a fridge and stack them into crates.

"Thanks, babe," Trish said casually. This small word sent a pang through his chest. He hadn't realised till that moment how much he missed hearing someone calling him this small term of affection. Linka was now belatedly showing him her true feelings, but the little simple things, like calling him 'babe', were still beyond her. She just wasn't that kind of person.

Maybe Trish could never hope to match the Russian in looks, but at this particular moment, as they worked in companionable silence, Wheeler thought that she seemed to have everything else. She was always warm and frank with him –he always knew what she was thinking because she never tried to hide it from him. Linka, on the other hand, well…he had to admit that she could be downright cold, even to those closest to her. Trish was always honest with him. Always. There was no way that she would ever toy with his emotions the way Linka had done the past year…

They finished and she turned to face him, tucking a stray wisp of dark blonde hair behind her ear.

"You've been avoiding me, Wheeler," she said matter-of-factly. Looking at her calm, hazel eyes Wheeler knew that he had not, after all, managed to avoid the showdown he had dreaded so much. Even after all this time thinking about it, he was totally unprepared. Being around either Trish or Linka totally invalidated any decision he had made even minutes earlier.

"I-" he began tentatively.

"Don't even try to deny it. Come on, it's _me_. You can't lie to me. You never could," she said, following his eyes with her own, refusing to let him get away with his cowardice any longer.

There was silence, then a phone buzzed. She pulled it out and flipped it open. Her eyes slid briefly over the screen and then her attention was back with him.

"So, how come you never stayed in touch?" she continued. Her tone was casual but he could see the hurt in the tiny frown between her brows.

"What are you talking about? I called-" he tried to protest feebly.

"Yeah, like once every few months. You even forgot my birthday…" Trish's tone was now flat-out accusatory.

"I-"

"And that was when I stopped calling too, Wheeler. 'Cos clearly I wasn't important enough anymore."

"I'm really sorry, Trish." He wished there was some way for her to understand just how much he truly meant it.

"Are you?" she charged. "Are you really? You said you would never forget me, Wheeler. You said we had something special…" To Wheeler's horror, she began to cry. He watched her for a moment before his brain finally kicked in and he moved towards her and hugged her. He pulled away and wiped the tears away, but they continued to fall unabated.

"I _am _sorry, Trish. I really am, but you and I… We're not…" It was so hard to get the words out with her in his arms, sobbing fitfully. It wasn't just that he wasn't even sure what he wanted: it just seemed cruel at that moment.

"You never really broke up with me, Wheeler," she sniffed. "You just-just left…" She hiccupped back a sob, the sound so terrifyingly vulnerable, so un-Trish-like, that it was all he could do to not pull her even closer.

"I meant to-" he whispered.

"Did you?" she interjected. Her voice was stronger now. "Are you sure about that?"

There was a brief, tense pause and then Trish leaned up and was kissing him before he could clear his thoughts.

Without thinking, he responded. It was familiar. It was comfortable. It was easy, too easy, to slip back into old habits. He was so used to this feeling that he was moving almost automatically, knowing right where to move his lips, what angle to tilt his head, where to place his hands. And, as they embraced, all the happy memories flooded back, along with all the reasons he had delayed ending it with her when he knew they were finished.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he was aware that Trish had deepened the kiss and was now pushing him against the wall and his mind flashed to another blonde girl.

"Trish-" He pushed her away gently, suddenly sobered.

"What?" She had clearly not noticed the sudden worry etched over his face, and reached up to kiss him again. He held her back.

"Trish, stop…I don't think…I mean, this is a bad idea. Not now, I can't…" His tongue tripped over the words. His resolve was not helped by Trish's face, now inches from his, her sweet scent tickling his nostrils.

"Why not, babe? Are you telling me you're not enjoying this?" She was persistent, he had to give her that, he thought, in the instant before her lips were on his again.

"Excuse me, have you seen-Oh, sorry!" Someone gasped from behind Trish. "I did not mean to…Wheeler?" The voice was horribly, stomach-churningly familiar.

He looked over Trish's shoulder knowing full well the terrible image that would greet him. And there it was: Linka standing in the doorway. For a moment she looked wretched, but she recovered so quickly that he almost thought he had imagined the broken expression on her face.

"Linka, I…" He stopped. What could he possibly say? Trish had turned to look at Linka and Wheeler was hugely grateful that she chose to remain silent.

"I was just looking for you, but since you are…you are busy, I will find my own way home," Linka said quickly, her voice cool.

"Linka, wait…" he began as she turned to leave. She spun around again and there was an iciness in her eyes that shook him. _What have I done?_ he thought miserably.

"No, Wheeler. Stay. Have fun." She stared at him for a moment, the frosty expression on her delicate features daring him to challenge her. And then she was gone, lost in the frenzied mass of people.

"What on earth is _her_ problem?" Trish's voice was full of disdain. "'Have fun'? Like we're just silly kids…Now, where were we?"

She turned to Wheeler again, hands on his chest, and he felt a sudden burst of rage.

"Jesus, Trish! I told you no! Why don't you ever listen?! Look what you've done!" He gestured angrily out the doorway where Linka had stood moments earlier, knowing he was really more angry at himself.

"What _I've_ done?" Trish suddenly looked just as furious and Wheeler remembered her famous temper. Maybe the only personality trait she and Linka shared…. "I wasn't kissing myself, buddy. You-" She jabbed him in the chest, hard. "Were part of this. Why do you even care what she thinks about us?"

It was a question he was not in the right frame of mind to answer.

"Forget it. I'm going home," he said, moving away from her, and feeling even more annoyed at himself for taking the easy way out again. But Trish grabbed his arm, her eyes wide.

"_Her?_ Is she the one who's stopped you from calling me?"

"Stop it, Trish." The confrontation he had dreaded was now looming in front of him, bigger and more terrible than he had ever imagined.

"What, are you two together now?"

"No!" He surprised himself with his own intensity and wondered where the anger had come from. He thought back to how confused Linka had made him feel, until recently never wanting to clarify where they stood. He had accepted this patiently until now when the increasing confusion of the past weeks had made him irrational and irritable. "We're not anything. It's complicated, ok?"

"Huh?" Trish's voice seethed with scorn. "I should've known you, Wheeler. As soon as you see a pretty girl, you just-"

"It's not like that!" he yelled.

"Then what is it? Don't you think I deserve an explanation?" she shouted back.

"Trish, you wouldn't understand. _ I _don't even understand..." he replied, lowering his voice.

"So you can't even tell me what kept you away from me all this time? You're pathetic, Wheeler." She looked as though she were resisting a strong urge to hit him.

"Trish-" he began cautiously, but she continued over him.

"I thought you were different. But turns out you're just like every other man in my life, abandoning me the first-"

"I didn't abandon you! Planeteer work is really important. I'm-"

"Yeah, saving the world. I get it. You don't have time for all your old worthless friends anymore," she said scathingly. The accusation hit him painfully hard.

"Does it even matter what I tell you?" he retorted, defending himself in the usual way, by fighting her right back. "You never, ever, listen to me. You think you have all the answers. No one else could possibly ever be right. That's your problem. That's always been your problem. I'm sick of it and I'm leaving now."

"Yeah, run back to your new friends," she spat as he moved to the doorway. "I'm sure she's waiting for you outside to ride off into the sunset together…"

He turned back to face her angrily, opening his mouth, but she pre-empted him.

"It's about time you grew up, James Wheeler. Your life isn't a fairytale."


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the kind words everyone. They kept me sane as I tried to sleep through 4 hours of drilling and other associated construction work next door which, of course, finished precisely five minutes before my alarm rang. I'm beginning to tap into the anger of the members of my little love triangle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Dude, you have to check this out, Pam and Jen just-"

"Not now, Charlie," Wheeler said quickly, pushing past his friend. He hurried past a flock of bemused revellers by the doorway and out into the cool night air, hoping she would still be there. He scanned the yard desperately as the music drummed steadily in the background, punctuated by drunken shrieks. He finally spotted the curtain of golden hair a few yards away. Linka was standing at the edge of the sidewalk, arms folded across her chest, a stance clearly warning anyone and everyone to stay out of her way. Wheeler ignored this and made his way to her.

"Linka."

She turned and immediately spun back round as soon as she saw that it was him.

"I don't want to talk about it, Wheeler," she said coolly.

"We need to." He reached towards her but she turned again to him with such a fierce look in her eyes that he immediately drew back.

"I told you to stay. I've called a taxi," she informed him, looking down the street impatiently.

"Linka, what you saw…It wasn't…I didn't mean to-"

Her dry laugh broke into his jumbled attempt at an apology and still she refused to look at him.

"Come on, Wheeler. You are a grown man. You can do what you like; you don't need my approval."

"But I want you to understand..."

"I guess now I know why you kept pushing me away," she said, with the same matter-of-fact tone in her voice that Trish had had earlier, one that was impossible to contradict. She was much too calm for Wheeler's liking. He could deal with an angry and shouting Linka because at least he knew it meant she still cared. But this cool and collected Linka –it was the girl who had kept him up so many nights wondering if he was only wasting his time on someone who wasn't capable of loving him the way he did her.

"It had to happen, didn't it?" she continued. "That by the time I finally opened myself to you you would have found someone else. I _knew _I shouldn't have. I told myself it would go wrong." She muttered something to herself in Russian.

"It's not like that, Linka. You don't understand-"

"No, clearly I don't. You're right. All this-" She turned to gesture towards the house, her gaze falling briefly on the man still passed out in the front lawn. "This is a part of your life I won't ever be part of. That's fine. Go and enjoy that life, Wheeler, and don't worry about me."

Looking down at her, Wheeler felt a sinking sensation in his gut. She had that familiar expression that indicated she was retreating into herself, shutting him out. The barriers he had worked so hard to break down were being reassembled before his very eyes; he could see her slipping away from him again and he felt powerless to stop it.

"But Linka…" He tried to find the words to draw her back. "What about…you know, the other day, when we…" Her eyes looked up to meet his and he searched desperately, futilely for some message in them.

"Clearly, things have changed since then, Wheeler," she said quietly. "My taxi is here."

They both looked up the road where the yellow car was making its way towards them.

"Go back to your party," she said firmly, as the cab rolled to a stop next to them and a head leaned out the front window.

"Er…Miz Linda?"

"Linka, yes," she replied. She turned to Wheeler, a faint smile on her face. "Go, Wheeler."

He wanted to get into the taxi with her, but he could tell that she was in a place he couldn't access. Not that he even would even know what to say to make things right. He pulled his house key from his pocket and handed it to her, letting his fingers linger on hers as long as he dared, trying to make her understand that he would not let her go this easily.

"Linka, I still want to talk to you. I need to explain," he said, as she opened the taxi door. She turned to look at him.

"There's nothing to explain. This is who you are. This is your life. It was silly of me to think I could just come here and…" She did not finish and instead sighed. "I'll see you later, Wheeler." She ducked into the taxi and closed the door behind her.

"Wait!" Wheeler rapped on the window, desperate to hold on to her. She rolled it down. "Have you got the cab fare? Maybe I should come-"

"I will be fine on my own, Yankee," she said softly.

As the taxi drove away from him Wheeler forced himself to believe that there was no hidden meaning in her words.

Feeling suddenly drained he stared at the house, where the party was going on as vigorously as ever, its occupants completely oblivious to his emotional turmoil. He had no desire to rejoin his friends, much less encounter Trish again. Her words still stung, more so because he knew how much truth there was to them.

He sighed and searched his pockets before remembering that he had no phone. Leaving the noise behind him, he strolled down the road, past familiar tenements before turning down a side street where he knew there would be a phone booth. Ignoring the smell and the numerous posters advertising various nefarious services, he entered the small box and jammed a few coins into the slot. He checked his watch as he dialled, estimating that it would be early afternoon in Tokyo.

After a few rings, there was a click.

"…be quick. Hello?"

"Hey, Gi…is this a bad time?" Wheeler could make out a male voice in background; he was clearly interrupting something.

"Wheeler? Hold on…" The voice became muffled and then faded away. "Yeah, it's ok. I was just having lunch with…someone…"

"Who?" Wheeler inquired.

"Uh, just…a friend. A guy I used to know in school…"

Wheeler smiled. At least he wasn't the only one having trouble shaking off his past. Gi would definitely understand him.

"Wow, Gi…no wonder you were so eager to get home…" he teased, unable to help himself.

"Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want, Wheeler."

"Don't you worry: I will."

"Ok, you've had your fun. How can I help you?"

"I was just calling to say hi, Gi…"

"Really?"

Wheeler could just imagine her brow arching high as she said it.

"Yeah, really. Can't a guy call his friend to-"

"Did something happen with Linka?" she broke in.

"What? No. I-"

"Wheeler," Gi sighed tiredly. "What happened?"

Knowing that he could stall no longer, he took a deep breath then spoke quickly.

"I kind of…well, I kissed this other girl and Linka saw us…"

"Wheeler! What were you thinking?!" Gi exclaimed.

"I wasn't! That's the problem… But it wasn't just anyone, Gi." Wheeler was silently pleading with her to understand. He needed her advice, now, more than ever. If there was any woman he could count on to keep things simple and straightforward for him it was her. Or at least he hoped so. "It way my ex-girlfriend, Trish, and _really_ she was the one that kissed me…"

"Yeah, sure," Gi snorted. "I thought you had said you two were done…"

"Yeah…. Well, but the thing is…I never actually broke up with her and now-"

"You what?!" Gi cried. Wheeler winced at her tone.

"And now," he continued quickly, "I think everyone expects us to get back together. You know 'cos that's the way it used to be and now I'm back here…." He trailed off.

"Well, what do _you_ want, Wheeler?"

It was the dreaded question.

"I- I'm not sure. I mean, you know how I feel about Linka, right? I'm crazy about her. That hasn't changed. But when I'm here, in Brooklyn, with all my old friends, it just feels like…I dunno… Like I belong with Trish, like I _should _be with her. "

There was a long pause, during which Wheeler realised how good it felt to finally get his thoughts out in the open, to say them out loud to someone, even if he was no closer to knowing what to do.

"Wheeler," Gi said slowly, "the only thing I can say is that whatever you decide, do it for yourself and not anyone else. I can tell you're really confused right now, but I have faith in you Wheeler. You'll do the right thing."

"I was kinda hoping you would just tell me exactly what to do," Wheeler half-joked. "I don't understand you girls. If you leave me on my own I'll totally screw up. I've done a pretty good job so far…"

Gi laughed.

"Wheeler, whatever you do, just be honest with yourself, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll give that a try…"

"I have to go, but call me if one of them tries to kill you... or if you just need to talk more, ok?"

"Sure. Go back to your date. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he added mischievously.

"That doesn't rule out much," she retorted. "Nice talking to you, Wheeler. Tell Linka I said hi."

"I will. If she's talking to me…"

"Give her some credit. She may understand more than you think."

"Maybe. All right, see ya then."

"Bye."

He hung up and stepped out into the breezy New York night. For the first time in a city he had known all his life, he felt completely lost.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for your sympathy, guys. Fortunately I'm leaving on Sunday so the alarm clock from hell will soon be far, far away. Sorry I'm updating so slowly and keeping you waiting but I haven't been able to stay up as late as I normally can. I'm nearly finished, though. I might be able to get the last chapter up before I leave, otherwise I'll be typing it up on the plane!

By the way, I absolutely cannot decide which story to do next (they're both developed to more or less the same extent) so I'm taking a vote: option A: we see what our favourite characters are up to, many years in the future, as they meet up _chez _Kwame, or B: everyone travels to Russia but things don't go quite according to plan for a certain couple. Both stories are, of course, W/L centred (as if you had to ask) but I won't divulge anymore ;-).

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, man! Where's the Russkie?" Fred grinned mischievously as Wheeler entered the room.

Sam shot him a vicious look and then looked none-too-surreptitiously at Trish out of the corner of her eye. The petite blonde was sitting cross-legged on the couch opposite the door,

glaring at Wheeler with the same disdainful look she had worn when they had last parted.

Wheeler ignored Fred and turned to his ex-girlfriend.

"Can I talk to you, Trish? Alone?"

It was two restless nights later and he realised how unfair it was on her to leave their argument at the party hanging over them. Trish deserved better than that and running away from his problems wasn't helping anybody.

"Anything you have to say to me you can say here," she replied, her tone cold and uncompromising. "In front of my true friends."

"Owwww-ch…" Charlie whistled under his breath.

"Shut up Charlie," Sam hissed.

"What?" he bit back defensively. He turned to Wheeler. "To tell you the truth, man, you've been acting kinda weird since Linka got here."

"I'll take her off your hands for you," Fred piped up quickly.

"Oh great, you too," Trish said exasperatedly. "Everyone's falling for the posh little madam who thinks she's so much better than us."

"Oh, that's nice Trish. Just what I expected from you," Wheeler said heatedly. He couldn't help himself: Trish knew just how to get to him; she had one particular tone of voice that made his temper flare like nothing else. Plus defending Linka had become an almost automatic reaction.

Their friends looked uncomfortably from Trish to Wheeler, at the angry expressions marring both their faces.

"We can leave if you want," Sam offered hopefully.

"No, stay," Trish said firmly. "Charlie's right: He _is _acting strange and I think we all deserve an explanation. Are you ashamed of us or what?"

"Ashamed? What?" Wheeler frowned. There was no reply and, looking round the room, he realised that they had been talking about him in his absence.

Finally, looking like she would rather be anywhere else, Sam broke the silence again.

"Well, you've stopped hanging out with us since she got here," she said tentatively. "It's like you don't want us around her…"

"What's the matter, Wheeler? Are we not good enough for ya?" Trish added waspishly.

"No!" Wheeler spluttered. "No, that's not true at all. I-"

"I guess since Manhattan's a journey for us, we can't possibly hope to compare to your globetrotting new friends, huh?" The low voice was angry, sarcastic, callous. "We've never left the country, never seen the sights of Paris, or Rome or Tokyo or all those fancy places you visit every week. I guess we're just unsophisticated hicks to you now, right?"

Shaking his head furiously, Wheeler tried to refute her accusations but the powerful waves of guilt now washing over him now trapped the words in his throat. He could not pretend that there wasn't a degree of truth to her accusations. Perhaps he wasn't _ashamed_, as such, but there was definitely a part of him that was… uncomfortable… with his past. But why, he wondered? Why had he tried so hard to leave behind a place that he had called home for so long? To renounce the places and people who had helped make him the person he was?

The four people now looking at him almost reproachfully were people he had been proud to call his friends. They were the ones who had been there for him during his most difficult times. It was not Kwame who had distracted him when he worried when his father would come home from another drinking binge. Ma-Ti had not sat and debated with him whether their latest indiscipline would lead to expulsion from school. Gi had never reassured him that his mother _did_ care about his failing grades and his future. And it certainly wasn't Linka who had consoled him on the rare occasion that he had broken down with the strain of it all, the enormous pressure of constantly having to maintain the carefree, easygoing front while his home life progressively broke down.

Trish was right: he wasn't a Cinderella and Gaia was no Prince Charming, coming to take him away from his past forever. Instead, his past was an ever-present part of him; it was standing in front of him at this very moment, forcing him to confront it.

He thought of how easily he had fit back into this world and realised he did not want to let go of that feeling of familiarity. And there was, he now realised, no reason he had to. It was irrational to think there had to be some kind of boundary between Brooklyn and Hope Island. Even if his friends couldn't be part of his new life that was no reason for him to remove himself from theirs. If he was any kind of mature adult –and he knew what both Linka and Trish would say to that!– then he should be able to maintain his friendships without compromising the person he had become in the year and months since he had left. He was so lost in these thoughts that he almost forgot where he was, that his friends were still watching him accusingly, waiting for a response to Trish's charges.

"I'm not ashamed of you guys," he said finally. "I'm really sorry if it came across that way, but, believe me, I'm not. I know I've been a jerk the last few days and-"

"Understatement of the century," Trish interjected.

He glanced at her.

"Yeah, I get it, Trish. I've been an idiot. I had some stuff to sort out for myself…and…I guess I'm not done with that yet…but I _am _sorry. You guys are my friends and I would never, ever be embarrassed about that. You've always been there for me. And I know I haven't done the same, but it's gonna be different. I'll make it up to you, I promise. You know I love you guys and-"

"Hey, hey, don't get all soppy on us now," Charlie jumped in. He was smiling slightly.

"Yeah, if you cry we're going to lose major respect for you," Fred agreed. "Like after that woman mugged us…"

"I told you: it was only 'cos she kicked me in the-" Wheeler began, a wide grin breaking across his face, as relief flooded over him.

"Right. Sure. But from the way you blubbered I thought she'd stolen your dignity as well!" Fred chortled.

If he had had any lingering doubts that these people were an important part of his life they were now fully extinguished. The four in front of him knew all about him, about his many flaws and inadequacies, and still they managed to look past them and accept him for the person he was. Maybe they didn't understand his behaviour –and he knew he really would have to find some way to apologise properly– but they were all prepared to give him another chance, which he wasn't entirely sure he deserved, but was extremely grateful for.

Well, all of them except Trish, who, he noticed, did not join in their laughter, and sat watching him, looking just as hostile as ever. Why, he wondered briefly, was he so attracted to such stubborn, challenging women.

"So…Trish? Can we talk?" he asked again, hoping the improved atmosphere would soften her mood.

She folded her arms across her chest and continued to glower at him.

"I don't have anything to say to you ."

"Come on, Trish. Please," he begged.

She remained silent.

"Patricia-"

"Urgh…ok, ok, ok…" she relented, sighing. "Just promise _never _to call me that again. You know how much I hate it…_James_." Her mouth curved slightly as Wheeler grimaced. "And you're buying me dinner."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were strolling along Brooklyn Bridge in surprisingly amiable silence, the myriad bright lights of Manhattan twinkling in the distance. It was a long way to come but they hadn't even noticed the time going by as they had walked through the familiar neighbourhoods, reminiscing about days long gone.

"So why'd you kiss me if you like the Russian girl?" Trish asked suddenly.

Wheeler stopped and turned to look down at her, eyebrows raised.

"_I _kissed _you_?"

She laughed and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Ok, maybe I started it. And I know you'd never say no to a girl kissing you," she added playfully .

"Especially not a cute one," Wheeler said. Seeing the gentle smile that spread across her face he immediately he wished he had remained silent. He was only succeeding in making the whole situation increasingly difficult for himself.

"But anyway," she continued, gazing at him intently, "what's going on with you? What's going on with us?"

Wheeler sighed and, despite his inhibitions, took her hand. They resumed their walk along the bridge.

"I don't know, Trish. I really don't. I thought we were broken up. Till I got back here and I starting remembering everything…about us. And only the good things, you know. Somehow the bad stuff seems to be gone…"

"The bad stuff?"

"Come on, Trish. It was far from perfect."

"Yeah, I know…"

"Well, anyway, let's just say…I'm finding it hard to let go."

"Why do you have to?" She had stopped again and faced him, her hazel eyes meeting his blue ones. He didn't reply and she was leaning up towards him, her face inches from his before he snapped to his senses.

"Trish…" he warned, backing away from her.

"Ok, ok, jeez, Wheeler. Used to be a time when you couldn't keep your hands off me…" She laughed, but her eyes were sad and thoughtful.

"Times have changed," Wheeler said quietly.

"Clearly."

They ambled further along bridge. Linka hung silently, heavily over them but neither mentioned the Russian again. The evening was about the two of them.

After a few minutes, Wheeler turned to her.

"What do you want from me, Trish?"

"For us to be like we used to be," she replied, her voice filled with a soft earnestness.

He shook his head.

"That's impossible. And I think you know that…"

She sighed.

"Ok, then, what do _you _want from me?"

"I don't know." And that was the plain truth. He knew he wanted Trish in his life, but _as what_?

"I think my answer was better than yours," she said, smiling faintly. Wheeler smiled back and turned to face the vast plain of water. A chilly wind blew across the East River as the traffic roared past below them and he drew Trish in close, her familiar touch warm and comforting against him. They stood together in silence until, eventually, he realised how dark it now was and that he had lost feeling in his fingers. He pulled away.

"Let's get you home, Miss Taylor."

"Aww, I was just starting to enjoy this…" Trish pouted.

"I know your grandma hates me. I'm not getting in trouble with her again!" Wheeler joked.

"Remember after that party at Joe's, when we ended up in Pennsylvania when we were supposed to be taking her to her knitting convention?" Trish shook with laughter.

Wheeler shuddered.

"I think that was one of the rare times I think I could say I preferred to face her anger than do her bidding. But, wow, she cusses like a construction worker…"

Chuckling, they turned and headed back towards their borough.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As he walked the few blocks back to his apartment after dropping Trish off, Wheeler felt the customary current of confusion roaring inside him. He had told himself earlier that evening that nothing would happen with her and it hadn't but …. he would be lying if he said he hadn't been tempted. Walking through their old haunts, remembering their past adventures…it felt like he was where he was meant to be. But at the same time it didn't feel entirely right. Something kept disrupting the cosy feeling, reminding him that he had left this place, had built a new life for himself far away from all these memories.

The problem was that, as much as he understood that he could never have it all back, that he probably didn't want it back, and that it could never be the same, it still felt so warm and comfortable to return to the person he was before. The person who had called this block home, who had joked around with his friends on these streets, who had bunked off school in these buildings.

And, of course, that person had been tied to Trish…Trish, whose hand never itched to pull away from his the way Linka's did…Trish, whose affection and warmth he never needed to worry about losing with one mistimed joke… Wheeler knew fully well that his ego played a part in his attraction to her: it was nice to be with someone who whole-heartedly adored him, who didn't want him to change, to be more serious, more hard-working, to be anything other than plain old James Wheeler, Brooklyn born and bred.


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days passed in a blur for Wheeler. He was living with Linka yet they were leading separate lives. He still felt he needed to explain himself to her but she was determined to avoid the topic. She had discovered an old acquaintance was now studying at Rutgers and had stayed over the holidays; Linka now found every excuse to head down to New Jersey. Trish, thankfully, seemed to understand that he wasn't in a frame of mind to spend time with her and had not tried to contact him since their talk on the bridge. Wheeler found himself relieved at the time he now had to himself to think things over, even if he remained as torn as ever.

Making his way home through a dimly lit street late one night, he weighed up his options. Whatever he decided to do he would inevitably, irreversibly, damage one relationship or the other. On the one hand, he knew that New York would not feel quite like home without Trish; on the other, the idea of Hope Island without the bond he had developed with Linka was hugely unpleasant. And yet he didn't want to be with either girl simply because she was the one there.

He knew that his relationship with Trish had been tempestuous even before he had left, that the old problems would surely resurface, whereas Linka was a new beginning, a part of the future he had begun to make for himself. But, despite what she had told him on the first night, he had become so accustomed to the rejection, to how her disposition towards him swung from one day to the next, that he needed some sign that she was indeed going to stick around for the long haul. He needed reassurance that it would be worth giving up Trish for good.

All this was, he laughed to himself, assuming she would even entertain the idea of taking him back after everything…

As he turned a corner, bright blue and red lights flashed in his face. Shielding his eyes, he saw that a section in front of a dilapidated block of flats had been cordoned off and two police officers stood in front of their car, one speaking into his radio rapidly. A few curious passers-by had gathered to watch the scene but Wheeler had other things on his mind and took a detour round the crowd into a deserted alley.

Five minutes later he was back in front of his apartment, the distant screech of an approaching ambulance sounding out in the cool night air. He entered quietly and headed to his room to fetch his pyjamas. He frowned as the dim light from the hallway hit the room and he saw that the bed was unoccupied. Had Linka said she would be spending the night in New Jersey? He didn't think so, but his mind had been so preoccupied lately that it was possible he had missed it.

He changed and went back to the living room and stretched out awkwardly on the couch but sat up again quickly. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure he remembered her mentioning wanting to do some early morning shopping the next day, so it was unlikely that she had stayed in New Jersey. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep till he was certain she was safe. He found the living room phone and dialled her cell phone. No answer.

_Ok_, he told himself, _that didn't mean anything_. She was probably asleep. It was 1 a.m. after all. Still, he just needed to be sure.

He went to his parents' bedroom and rapped on the door.

"What the-" his father's voice sounded out angrily, startled out of sleep.

"It's me," Wheeler called, pushing open the door and poking his head round. The faint light fell on his parents' haggard faces.

"Are you ok?" His mother asked, squinting up at him from the bed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did Linka come home this evening?"

Both parents shook their heads.

"Well, did she call home and leave a message or something?" Wheeler struggled to keep the panic out of his voice.

Again, the response was negative.

"Is she in trouble?" his mother asked worriedly.

"Um…nah, I think she's with her friend in Jersey. I just wanted to make sure," Wheeler said quickly. His mother had enough on her mind without him unnecessarily adding worry over Linka's whereabouts to her concerns. She probably _was _down at Rutgers and he was overreacting. "Never mind. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

He shut the door again to the sound of his father's grumbling. He went back to the living room and dialled Gi's number. She hadn't heard from the Russian either and he made his excuses quickly, not wanting to spread his anxiety to her. He called his other friends but neither Kwame nor Ma-Ti had any clue where she could be. Wheeler could feel his chest constricting painfully now. In desperation he called his New York friends too but, of course, they too did not know where Linka was. He dialled one final number.

"Have I seen who?" Trish's voice sounded groggy.

"Linka. Have you seen her? Heard from her? Anything?" he asked.

"Why on earth would I have, Wheeler?" she replied, seeming not to pick up on his urgent tone. "That's just ridiculous. She doesn't even have my-"

"Never mind," he said brusquely. He hung up before she could say anything more. He paced nervously for a few moments, trying to think where she could possibly be. Finally he picked up the phone and dialled Linka's number again. After a few rings there was a click and the tightness in his chest eased slightly.

"Linka-" he started.

"Who?" a gruff voice interrupted.

"Who's this?" Wheeler said, surprised.

"Hey, you're the one calling me, bud. Who are _you_?" the man growled.

"But…this is Linka's number." Confusion and renewed panic roared through Wheeler.

"I don't know no Linka. Sorry." There was a click and then the dial tone rung in Wheeler's ears.

He felt more flustered than before now. Who was the man and how had he got hold of Linka's number? Maybe he had dialled the wrong number in his nervousness. He punched in the numbers again slowly. The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Linka, wh-"

"You again?" The man laughed. "I told you, this ain't Linka's number. I just bought this phone. Now stop calling me."

Suddenly the shrill cry of the ambulance, now fading into the distance, came to the foreground and Wheeler's heart skipped a beat. _Come on, you hear that everyday. It's New York, _he reminded himself. But his mind was churning over the details of the last ten minutes. While each wasn't particularly unusual –the crime scene near his apartment, Linka not being home, the ambulance –together they tied in in a way that made his stomach turn. With a sudden jolt of realisation, he knew, _he knew_,that Linka was in that ambulance, that she was in trouble and all alone. He imagined the pale body lying motionless on a stretcher, or worse –and now he struggled to catch his breath– being zipped up with finality in the black body bag. Hands shaking, he switched on the television and flipped to the local news channel, knowing already what he would see. Sure enough, the yellow 'BREAKING NEWS' ticker crawled along the bottom of the screen, below the image of a reporter standing in front of a familiar scene. There were more police now and a large crowd of onlookers stood behind her.

"Police are appealing for witnesses to the murder and anyone with any information at all is urged to call…."

Wheeler saw her lips moving but her words were drowned out as his heart pounded in his ears.

He leaned over a nearby cabinet, head in hands, and tried to think straight. His breath was shallow and his stomach was twisting in knots. Finally he grabbed his jacket and shook out his keys. As he did so, the front pages of the next morning's papers flashed across his mind. Linka's face stared at him blankly, her death described beneath the picture, the words brutally indifferent to the pain they caused him. _Victim unidentified…gunshot wounds… _The illusion was so painfully vivid in his mind that he felt light-headed as he went to the door. He wasn't even sure where he was headed; he just knew he had to find her –

The doorknob twisted beneath his fingers. He only just had time to step out of the way before the door swung open and Linka stood in front of him.

She looked surprised to see him and had barely opened her mouth before he grabbed her and pulled her close, huge, shuddering breaths of relief escaping from him. He knew he was holding on too tight, that he was crushing her in his arms but he could not bring himself to loosen his grip. It felt exactly like the exact instant of waking from a nightmare: the moment of realisation that it was not real after all, but still unable to get rid of the fear that seized the heart. It was a fear he had never experienced before, even on their most dangerous of missions.

Now that he knew she was alive, could feel her warmth in his arms, he knew that he could not let her get away from him ever again. He realised that he was now crying silently but the thought didn't embarrass him. Linka was safe, with him, and that was all that mattered.

"Wheeler!" Her cry came from somewhere in his chest. "I. Can't. Breathe."

He slackened his hold on her slightly, but she was still pressed close to him.

"Where the hell did you go?!" His voice was raw, higher than usual.

"For a walk," she replied. "I needed to –"

"Why didn't you take your phone?" he demanded. The emotion made his tone harsher than he had intended.

"I did," Linka insisted. She had to push her arms against his chest to move back. She rooted through her small bag. "_Bozhe moy! _I think I have been…pockpicketed!"

A choked laugh escaped from Wheeler's throat and Linka looked up at him for the first time.

"Wheeler, is everything ok? Are your parents-"

"They're fine," he broke in quickly. "It's you I've been worried sick about. Do you know what time it is? Do you realise how dangerous it is out there?" He knew he sounded patronising and knew how much she hated that tone but he didn't care. He had to make her see how he felt.

"I can protect myself," she said, raising her Planeteer ring to illustrate her point. It was clear that she understood how upset he was because her tone was not defiant in the way that it normally was whenever someone implied that she was less than fully capable at anything. "Besides," she added, attempting to manoeuvre more breathing space by easing herself out of his grip, "we've been in much worse situations."

"That's different," Wheeler said. He had relented and allowed her to move away from him, but he held both her arms. "The rest of us have always been there. _I've _always been there. Linka, promise me you won't do anything like that again. Please."

She looked at him again, and her eyes seemed to move down the tear tracks on his face for a long time. Wheeler thought of the instant he had thought he would never see that face again, of the terror so complete that he was only now able to breathe properly, and it was all he could do not to pull her to him again.

"Ok, I promise. I'm sorry I made you worry," Linka said softly. This time she was the one to move to him, drawing him into an embrace. He held her for a long, long time, glad that she didn't try to move away again. Finally, he released her realising that there was another pressing issue to be dealt with.

"Linka, I have to go talk to someone. Wait up for me, ok?"

She frowned.

"You have to go now? It's so late. You just said yourself it was dangerous…"

"I know but I have to do it in person, Linka, and I want to do it before I talk to you. It's the fairest way," he explained, looking directly into her eyes and hoping she understood. Her face sank as the realisation hit her.

"Trish?" she said quietly.

"I'll explain everything when I get back, I swear," he said. He knelt down and retrieved the keys that had fallen when he had seen Linka.

"You don't have to. I understand…" she said softly.

"No. You don't. But I'll explain. Just wait for me," Wheeler pleaded.

As he hurried down the building's stairway, Wheeler wanted nothing more than to turn back and go to Linka, to be with her, to explain everything to her. But he knew he had to get to Trish now, while he knew exactly what he needed to say to her. He knew that what he had to say to Linka would be difficult to explain, and he still wasn't sure of the words to express himself, but it was important that he spoke to Trish before anything happened with the Russian, important that he let her know that he had finally made his decision.


	10. Chapter 10

"I knew you couldn't keep away from me for long, babe!" Trish was beaming as she stood in front of her apartment block, hugging herself against the cold. "But there'd better be a damn good reason you woke me up _twice_ in the middle of the night…"

Wheeler took a deep breath, forcing himself to hold his nerve. He finally knew what needed to be said but he still wasn't quite sure how.

"Trish, I've been trying to keep alive a relationship that ended a long time ago." He spoke quickly but clearly. When he had rung her to come down he had promised to explain everything and now there could be no misunderstandings.

"Well, why don't we cut straight to the point?" she said sarcastically, looking –unsurprisingly–suddenly angry.

"The truth is," Wheeler barrelled on, ignoring her tone, "I felt guilty for leaving everyone behind, and when I got back here I tried to make up for it by picking up right where I left off. But I've realised that, as easy as it was to fit back in, I can't do it, at least not with you…. It's completely unfair to you, because I'm just going to leave again. I _want _to leave. My home is on Hope Island now." He looked down at her but she said nothing, so he continued. "But I don't want you to think I went away and forgot about you. That's _not_ how it happened. I haven't felt like your boyfriend for a really long time and I knew we were over before I ever met Li –um, any of the Planeteers. And I feel like shit for not letting you know and just hoping it would end naturally. You deserved so much better, and I know I can't make it up to you but the least I can do is be honest with you: I have to tell you, Trish, that it's never going to happen again between us. We've shared and been through so much; it's impossible for me not to still love you. And I'll always love you-"

"Oh, let me guess," Trish finally interjected, her voice hard. "You're not _in_ love with me, right? Come on, Wheeler, that's so cliché. You had all this time to think it over and that's the best you could come up with?"

Wheeler knew her well enough to know that her calm tone betrayed the fact that she was raging inside.

"You're right, but you know I suck with words," he conceded. "But even if it's cliché it's still the truth. Being back here… with all the memories and everything, I started thinking that because I cared for you it meant I must still be in love with you. But I've realised that _this_ isn't…you know… _love _love." He frowned, aware that he was not expressing himself at all they way he wanted.

"Right, 'cos you're in '_love _love' with the Russian girl," Trish said scathingly.

Wheeler sighed. He had hoped to keep Linka out of the conversation but had known that, really, it was impossible to make it clear to Trish just how certain he was about his decision, without referring to the Linka, without thinking back to how the thought of her death had, in one brief moment, torn him apart so completely that he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the only one for him.

"Yeah…" he finally said reluctantly. "Yeah, I _am _in love with Linka. But you have to understand, Trish, you and I were over even before I left."

"So that would be why you told me that we would be just fine, that we would get through everything, right?" she retorted angrily, her voice rising rapidly. "But, hey, I guess _Linka_ spiced up the separation, didn't she? Made it real easy to forget about boring, ol' Trish, huh? Our relationship just became your embarrassing little secret, right? Right? Don't just stand there, answer me, you go-"

"We had a really good run, Trish," Wheeler broke in. He had had to bite back his response to her accusations since he hadn't come to argue with her. He knew he had been in the wrong and deserved any abuse she threw at him. "Even though I haven't been honest with you I hope you'll believe me now. I've never regretted having been with you. I want you to know that. And I'm really sorry that it's ending this way."

To his surprise, her expression softened.

"Me too, Wheeler," she said. "But it really doesn't have to end…"

"No," he said gently. "It does. This time it really does."

Trish's shoulders sagged; the anger had dissolved, in its place a crestfallen, defeated expression that made Wheeler feel worse than ever because he knew firsthand how awful it felt to try to hold on to someone who only longed to be let go.

"What is it about her?" she said quietly. "Is it 'cos she's prettier? Smarter? More sophisticated?"

"No, none of that," Wheeler said quickly. "I don't know exactly what it is…" He paused. "But I know, for sure now –I've never been more sure of anything– that she's…well, she's the one…Yeah, I know that's cliché too, but I don't know how else to say it."

Trish looked away from him biting her lip and Wheeler immediately felt sorry he had said anything. He never knew when to stop talking and, as a result, had a knack for making difficult situations even worse. He watched, feeling helpless, as tears began to slide down her face and soon she was shuddering uncontrollably, as sobs wracked her petite body. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how to without giving her some false glimmer of hope that she could still hold on to him. Just as he decided that it was too cruel to leave her standing on her own and moved towards her, she turned her gaze to meet his once more and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"I-I always t-thought I was t-the one for you, Wheeler," she hiccupped, through more tears. "You n-never said so, but I just assumed…I assumed that one day… I n-never imagined that you would have a f-future that I wasn't in."

"I'm so sorry, Trish," he replied softly. "But I know there's someone better out there for you. Let's face it, I've been a massive jerk to you!" He half-smiled but he still felt horribly guilty about the way he had treated her.

Trish shook her head. She took a few seconds to compose herself.

"I don't think there is…I know we both wanted to get away from here, to go on to bigger and better things. And I always knew _you _would do it. But _I _don't even know where to start. I know I can't do it on my own and I guess I was always counting on you to take me with you." Despite her efforts at calm, fresh tears were rolling down her forlorn face. "You broke my heart the first time you left, Wheeler. And when you came back… I promised myself I wouldn't let myself feel that way again… but it's happening all over again and it hurts just as much as before." Her voice broke on the last words and suddenly she was sobbing harder than before, her breathing ragged and sorrowful.

Wheeler had never seen her in such a state and knowing that he was to blame tore at him. He could feel his own eyes moistening for the second time that night.

"I never meant to hurt you, Trish," he said softly.

"I know."

Still the tears fell.

"But, even though I know this is really hard for you," Wheeler continued, "and I hate myself for putting you through it, it's better this way. For both of us."

"For you and me… or for you and Linka?" Trish looked up at him with brimming hazel eyes.

Wheeler did not respond and she sighed.

"I noticed the way you looked at her, you know," she said finally, drying her face once more. "I saw that look but I ignored it. I tried to pretend it didn't mean what I thought it did. But I know you too well…so, deep down, I guess I knew… And the expression on your face when she saw us in the storeroom…I mean _that_ just confirmed it." She laughed dryly. "I've never seen you so scared before, Wheeler. It was like you'd have done _anything _to go back in time. God, all the signs were there and I ignored them like an idiot…" She rubbed a hand across her forehead in frustration.

"I'm not too great at hiding my feelings, huh?" Wheeler said sheepishly.

"No, you've always been pretty bad at it," Trish replied, smiling faintly through the stream of tears. "But don't change that about yourself. I love –ok, I guess I gotta stop saying that. I mean, well… it's a good quality to have." She sighed again, clutching her sweater more tightly around herself and looked at him intently. "I told you before this isn't a fairytale. It's not some corny movie. So I'm not gonna tell you to go win her back and say I hope you two are happy together. Because the sad, bitter truth is that if I had it my way, you'd never see each other again, and you would forget all about her and fall back in love with me!" She continued to smile thinly even as the tears trickled down her dejected face. "But there's nothing I can do about it, is there?"

Wheeler shook his head.

"But I don't want to lose you. I want to stay friends, Trish," he said sincerely.

"I don't think so, Wheeler." It was her turn to shake her head. "Not anytime soon. It's too hard."

Wheeler nodded. He had expected this but the knowledge hadn't prepared him for the painful sensation of loss.

"I understand."

They stood silently, looking at each other for a few moments. Finally Wheeler knew the moment had come.

"Goodbye, Trish."

He moved forward to hug her but she backed away, shaking her head again as more tears spilled forth.

"Please…don't…Goodbye, Wheeler," she said, her voice a cracked whisper.

She turned away from him, ran up to stairs and slipped into the building without a backward glance.

Watching her, Wheeler felt the now familiar tightening in his chest. After almost 5 years he and Trish were well and truly over, and something told him that –even with everything they shared here–their paths were unlikely to cross again.


	11. Chapter 11

Opening the door to his room, Wheeler was relieved to see that Linka was up waiting for him as he had hoped

Pushing open his bedroom door, Wheeler was relieved to see that Linka had stayed up waiting for him as he had requested. She was sitting on his bed, staring blankly at a book in her hands. She looked up expectantly as he entered. There was a pause as each waited for the other to speak.

"Linka, I-" he began.

"It's ok, Wheeler, I understand," she said at the same time. She looked at him then back down quickly. "She's a part of your life and I wouldn't want to take that from you. She's part of the person you were before and I've already told you that there's no reason for you to be ashamed of that. Trish is a great girl, great for you. I understand that-"

"No, Linka," Wheeler interrupted. "You've got it wrong. I mean, Trish _is _great. But I want to be with _you_, and only you. Trish and I were finished before I ever left New York; I just didn't know how to end it properly. But it was when I met you that I knew, I really _knew_ that there was someone else I was supposed to be with."

He crossed the room in a few strides and sat next to her, taking her hands in his. She was looking at him in surprise, green eyes wide.

"The more time we spent together," he continued, "and the more I got to know you, the more I knew that I was ready to leave it all behind for good, for you… I don't think you understand what you mean to me, do you?"

"I-"

"I don't think you do," he carried on, the words seeming to flow out of their own accord. "Even _I _didn't realise. At least not till tonight."

"What happened tonight?" Linka inquired quietly.

Wheeler closed his eyes as the painful images rushed back.

"When I came home and you weren't there…I saw police…and there was also an ambulance…there was a murder a few blocks away…." He hesitated, hardly able to bring himself to utter the petrifying thought. "I-I thought it was you…"

Linka gasped.

"I'm so sorry, Wheeler," she said softly, shaking her head. "I really didn't realise you would worry so much."

"I didn't know I could feel that way either. But when I thought you were…" He paused, swallowing. "When I thought you were gone I realised how all the things I thought were so important didn't mean anything without you… I found it so easy to slip back into my old life; I thought I could get used to it all over again. But the moment I thought you might not be in my life anymore… I didn't want any of it."

"Oh, Wheeler…" Linka breathed.

"I know I'm probably scaring you right now with –with all this intensity… but I just want you to know, so you can understand how serious I am about this, ok?"

She nodded silently.

"I've been doing so much thinking," he continued, "about who I am and what I want. And I've finally realised that the person I am is the person you made me, Linka: Being with you made me _me. _The guy who lived here –Trish's guy– that wasn't who I wanted to be. And after all those years of wanting something more, I finally found it with you. You've answered all the questions I ever asked myself about where I wanted to go… what I wanted to do… who I wanted to do it with, because…well, because you're everything I want."

He paused, glancing behind her head at an old picture stuck to his wall.

"I'm kinda scaring myself too, you know? It really freaked me out how helpless I felt when I thought you were- that you wouldn't be around. I know that everything I'm saying to you right now is crazy. Believe me, I know that! I used to laugh at scenes like this in the movies but now I know… I know that it _can_ be real. I know that you can love someone more than you ever thought possible and still keep falling more in love with her every day."

"And all I ask, Linka, is for you to stop fighting me. Just let me make you happy. You know how I feel about you, and I think I know how you feel about me, so there's no reason this can't happen…." He stopped and looked down at her. "Ok, great… so now I've made _two _girls cry in one night. I'm really outdoing myself, as usual…." He sighed.

"It's not…no…," Linka's voice faltered, as the tears streamed thicker and faster down her face. "No, you're good. You're great." She squeezed his hands to reassure him. "It's just that no-one has ever said anything like that to me before. As you said, you only hear such things in films. I don't mean that in a bad way," she added quickly. "What I'm trying to say –badly– is that it is so rare to find someone like you. Someone who is so… real… and so honest and so caring…and-and I don't know how I got so lucky." Her voice cracked as she spoke, choked with her sobs.

"It's not luck, babe," Wheeler said, shaking his head. He released her hands and moved them to her face, caressing her wet cheeks as he spoke. "If it was, I would've totally screwed it up. I mean, I already did my best with the whole Trish thing, right?" He grinned lopsidedly. "But I think we're gonna make it. So it can't just be dumb luck. It may not be your classic fairytale but I know we were meant to be."

Linka reached up and held his hands on her face and leaned forward so that their foreheads touched, smiling at him through the tears. Her lips were close –_very_ close– to his, but Wheeler resisted the temptation to inch even closer, content just to bask in her beauty. After a few moments she moved back slightly and let their hands drop to their laps.

"Wheeler," she said softly. "I only wish I had the words to tell you how I feel like you did. But I don't think I do. Not in English…"

"Well, why don't you try in Russian, then?" Wheeler grinned.

She looked at him with a bemused smile.

"You are serious?"

"Yeah, why not? I'd like to hear it."

"Ok," she smiled.

As she spoke, Wheeler knew he had guessed right: he did not need to understand the language to know what she was saying. Her love for him was written across her face; it was in the tenderness of her gaze, in the gentle way her thumbs stroked his palms, in the way she leaned instinctively towards him as she spoke…He could see clearly, for the first time in their tumultuous relationship, that she longed for and needed him as much as he longed for and needed her and the knowledge filled him with such a warm glow that he found an irrepressible grin spreading across his face.

Linka spoke softly for a very long time, her eyes never leaving his face, her hands maintaining contact with his throughout, except for the brief moments she gestured to emphasise her points. By the time she had finished, her eyes once more brimmed with tears.

"Well…" she sighed, switching back to English. "Even though I've finally managed to say how I really feel, I hate that I'm not able to make you understand."

"No, I think understand, babe," Wheeler assured her. He reached forward and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, tugging playfully at the lobe. "You're pretty easy to read too… when you choose to be."

"I want you to know," Linka began. She stopped, sighing softly as his finger traced a pattern down her neck to her collarbone. "I want you to know that –that the last two years have been the best of my life. And not because I was a Planeteer. Because of you…And I'm so sorry that I never showed you just how happy I was being with you. The truth is that when I saw you with Trish I was angry at myself, not at you, because I knew it was my fault for never having treated you how I should have. I knew that I was being punished for it and that I deserved it for the way I-"

"I'm so sorry, Linka," Wheeler broke in. "I honestly never meant to hurt you. And it was only that one kiss; nothing else happened, I promise. I know that I shoulda sorted this out a long time ago. I just wasn't brave enough to-"

"You know something?" It was Linka's turn to interrupt. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Really? You're not mad?" Wheeler looked slightly incredulous.

Linka shook her head.

"_Nyet. _You chose me and that's all I care about, Wheeler. So no more talk about Trish. From now on, just you and me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she imitated his drawl affectionately.

She leaned forward, smiling mischievously, till her face was inches from his.

"So what do we do now, Yankee?" She tilted her head slightly to the side and her eyes twinkled.

Wheeler grinned back and taking her chin, gently drew her face forward till their lips met in a soft embrace. He pulled away after a few blissful seconds.

"So this is it, then?" he murmured, as his heart pounded contentedly.

"Da." Linka nodded and clasped her hands behind his head, her fingers lightly tickling his skin.

"Me and you. The real deal?"

"That sounds good to me, _lyubimaya_." She was smiling happily at him in a way he had only previously dared to dream of.

"What did you just call me?"

"It's Russian…"

"Yeah, I figured!"

"It means…" She paused and Wheeler saw the blush creeping up her face. "It means sweetheart… You look surprised. You don't like it?"

"Linka," Wheeler said, grinning, "that's all I've ever wanted to hear."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sorry to keep you waiting so long. I had the story all planned out ages in advance but it took surprisingly long to write, especially that last chapter. Cheers for sticking through even though the ending was pretty inevitable if you've read my other stories –no desperate and lonely Wheelers in my world, jimjamrm ;) !


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